


Running on air.

by Alexander_Slamilton



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - YouTube, Ballet, F/M, Lots of ballet, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, The amis come in a lil later, and cellos, and violins, but they will be there - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-10-03 19:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10255874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Slamilton/pseuds/Alexander_Slamilton
Summary: "The music swelled, the beat rising inside him like an unstoppable tide, pulling him in to his last move. The grand jeté, a move where the dancer extends one leg out in front and the other straight out behind, the arms raised above the head. Letting the music guide and pull him, Enjolras leaped, he kicked his legs and fell."Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire all ballet dancers. Enjolras falls, meaning he can't dance anymore. Grantaire, Courf, and Ferre are there for him during the hardest year of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras paused where he was, letting the beat of the music wash over him in easy waves, he knew this dance like the back of his hand; he knew when to pause and when to move, he could do this in his sleep. He had know this dance since he was sixteen years old, for nearly five years this had been his signature piece, a complex series of double tours all capped off with a grand jeté. It was the dance he’d used to get into school, with a good scholarship; it was the dance that had won him several awards, it was the dance that made him feel like he was an angel, that gravity had no effect on him. Courfeyrac was watching him, having just finished a practice of his own, he was sweaty and lying on the floor in that giggly hyper, adrenaline fuelled mood that came with an hour of exhausting exercise. The sun filtered in through the windows, gold rays spilling through the panes, creating a checkered pattern on the light wood floor. The music swelled, the beat rising inside him like an unstoppable tide, pulling him in to his last move. The grand jeté, a move where the dancer extends one leg out in front and the other straight out behind, the arms raised above the head. Letting the music guide and pull him, Enjolras leapt, he kicked his legs and fell.   
  
He lay on the floor, not feeling much but numbness and cold, he couldn't move his leg; he tried to wriggle his toes but nothing happened. Then, pain hit him like a freight train, white hot and angry, flaring up his leg. He rolled on to his side, groaning in pain as he felt spikes of nausea crushing him. The light in the room was too bright and Courfeyrac’s voice in his ear was too loud. He rolled on to his back, doing everything he could to keep breathing.   
  
“Enjy, Enjy keep calm,” Courf was saying, holding him upright as he yelled. “Ferre! Can we get some help in here?”  
  
“What’s happened?” Combeferre, Enjolras could remember, had been in the next door practise room, he came running in, a white panicked look on his face. “Enjolras? Jesus Christ what happened?”  
  
“He was doing his grand jeté like always, then he landed wrong; it looked like he just fell out the air.” Courf looked at Ferre, who was always good in a crisis; Courf was looking at him desperately.   
  
“Enjy, can you move your toes?” Ferre’s voice took on the calm tone it always did when things went wrong.   
  
“No.” Enjolras ground out, gritting his teeth and gripping Courf’s arm tightly.    
  
“And you can’t bend your leg at all?” Ferre shared a glance at Courf, and shook his head, Enjolras felt his stomach sink.   
  
“Combeferre, I swear-“  
  
“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Ferre looked at Courf. “Go to the medical room, get the doctor.”   
  
“Right, you’ll be okay?” Courf looked back at Ferre as he stood to go.  
  
“I’ll be fine, go,” Ferre had one of Enjolras’s hands in his, as he let out a few gasping sobs. “Breathe, you’re going to be fine.”  
  
“I’m not going to be able to dance, Ferre, what am I going to do?” Enjolras turned watery blue eyes on Ferre, he was paler than normal, “I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t dance. I’ll loose my scholarships. Fuck it hurts.” He sucked in a breath, his face pained and tight; he was shaking.   
  
“Just breathe, its going to be fine, you’ve got your music scholarship and your academic scholarship; you’re going to be okay.”   
  
“Fucking hell Theo, why did I even take dance?” Enjolras moaned, “I think I’m going to be sick.”  
  
“Fuck, lemme get the bin,” Combeferre said, as he ran to grab the bin from the corner of the room. He didn't want to leave Enjolras where he was, but then, he didn't want Enjolras to puke on the floor either.   
  
“Fuck me,” Enjolras panted.  
  
“Not now,” Combeferre clamped a hand over his mouth, his cheeks heated up, the blush spreading over his cheekbones and down his neck. “Sorry, Enj- I-“  
  
“Theo I swear to god-“  
  
“Where is he?” The doctor was there, standing in the doorway before she came to Enjolras’s side. “We need to get him on to the stretcher, try to not move his leg.” She looked at Enjolras, “I have everything we need in the station, then we’ll get you hospital.”  
  
***  
  
Some time between being lifted on to the stretcher and being brought to the ER, Enjolras passed out; the next thing he knew, he was in a hospital bed with his leg in a cast. The room, luckily it was a private room, was empty, save Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who were asleep curled round each other on a couch in the corner. He looked around him, taking the room in slowly, listening to the quiet sounds of the busy hospital outside the closed door. The curtains were closed but no light streamed in through the gaps, the clock on the table beside him read 22:00, he’d been out for hours. He looked up as the door opened, Grantaire came in, his eyes bright with panic; his face was white and he was still in the outfit he’d made for the showcase.  
  
“I’m sorry- I-“ He said, looking at Enjolras, “fuck, Enjolras.”  
  
“Yeah, I don’t even know what’s wrong with it, yet. Uh, the doctors haven’t been in since I woke up and er, yeah.” He gestured down at his leg, “I thought it was the knee but.”  
  
“Do you want me to go get someone, or wake up the sleeping beauties?” Grantaire waved over at Courf and Ferre, but Enjolras shook his head.   
  
“If you could grab someone that’d be great, no need to wake them, they’ve sat with me since one pm,” Enjolras smiled, watching as Grantaire stuck his head out the door and argued with a nurse for a few minutes. “How did your showcase go?” He asked when Grantaire flung himself down in the shitty looking hospital armchair.   
  
“Fine, I did the contemporary piece, you know the one with no real rhythm? Yeah, the audience stood and stuff so I’m guessing it went quite well. This is such shit luck,” Grantaire swept his eyes over Enjolras’s cast, “I guess instead of dancing with me for this week’s video you could accompany me on the cello, or violin or something.”  
  
“Yeah, that would be okay,” Enjolras shrugged, his and R’s burgeoning youtube channel was the least of his worries. “I just hope I don’t loose my scholarships, there’s no way I’ll be able to afford the fees without them.”  
  
“You can’t, they’re not allowed to take away dance scholarships for injury unless you’re unable to dance at all,” Grantaire shrugged at Enjolras’s questioning look, “when you’ve broken as many rules as I have, you actually have to read the rule book.”   
  
“Thank fuck, at least I’ll still be able to afford school, I’d have to get another music scholarship to cove this one if I lost it.” Enjolras sighed, feeling some weight leave his shoulders, as he settled back listening to Grantaire rattle off the reasons why scholarships get revoked, a doctor came in; the man had a grimace on his face and a set of x-rays in his hands.  
  
“Hi, you’re Julien Enjolras?” He asked looked at Enjolras.   
  
“Uh, yeah,” Enjolras nodded, nerves bubbling up in his stomach, refusing to settle when the doctor sculpted his face in to a look of quiet pity.   
  
“My name is Doctor Henrí, I’ve been assigned to you for the duration of your rehabilitation; I have been specialised in injuries from dance for the last ten years, and I’ve seen cases a lot worse than yours where the patient has made a full recovery.” Doctor Henrí turned and put the x-rays on the lights before turning back to Enjolras and pointing at them, “see here? This is your knee cap; here we can see it has shattered in to four pieces, we’ve operated on it already, hence the cast and the pins. Here’s the knee now that it’s been stitched back together,” he pointed at the x-ray on the far right. “It was fairly simple to do so, which is encouraging, though the fracture was severe. We should have you walking within six months.”  
  
“But?” He hadn’t mentioned dancing, Enjolras felt his stomach sink further down.   
  
“Dancing is another matter entirely, we’ll have to take every day as it comes, it might be a year from now or it might be two or even three years before you’re dancing like you were. With fractures of the knee it is often that we see dancers never fully recover; I will do everything I can to get you dancing again, though I just can not make any promises this early on.” The doctor looked at Enjolras, his eyes soft a look of pity painted across his features, “I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear, but there have been instances like yours where the dancer has gone on to dance just as well as before. We’re going to keep you in tonight so we can get your pain medication levels right, then I don’t see why you can’t go home tomorrow morning. We’ll set up an appointment for three months time to have another look at your knee and talk about weight baring and physio.”  
  
“Right, thank you, doctor,” Enjolras nodded and Doctor Henrí removed the x-rays and left the room.   
  
Enjolras sat there a terrifying torrent of emotions assaulting his mind, swirling around and around. He didn’t know who he was without dance, without ballet, it was something he’d dedicated his whole life to; he was a step away from the Washington National Ballet. The showcase he’d been preparing for was meant to send him there, or to London, or Paris; now he was sitting in a hospital bed hearing that it would likely be years before he could dance again. He didn't know what to do, how to feel, what to say; Grantaire was sitting in the chair, his eyes trained on Enjolras, not looking away. Enjolras sat there, letting the emotions overwhelm him, letting them drown him till there was nothing of him left. Like he’d been carried away on a tide, never to be seen again. And still, no one in the room moved or made a sound, not until Grantaire moved the armchair closer to the bed, and gripped Enjolras’s hand in his. It grounded him in away that was almost embarrassing, it was Grantaire’s own way of saying that everything would be okay. Grantaire had never been the type to express his thoughts or support in words, he preferred to stay silent, letting his actions speak for him. Enjolras basked in the easy warmth he provided, letting himself be comforted.   
  
“What am I going to do?” Enjolras finally let out the sob that had been threatening to break forth from his mouth.   
  
“You’ll make it work, play the three hundred instruments you play. Hey, you could finally set up that politics society that you’ve always wanted to. The one where I would sit in the back, with copious amounts of whisky, and argue against you at every turn,” Grantaire looked desperate, they may be close but R had never seen Enjolras like he was right then. He would have been lying if he said he knew what to do with Enjolras when he was like this.   
  
“You should go back, get some sleep, who texted you anyway?” Enjolras said, trying to smile to let Grantaire know that he would be okay.   
  
“Courf, he told me to bring my car so we could take you home. So, guess I’m staying the night, then,” Grantaire smiled and shook off Enjolras’s protestations. “Honestly, Apollo, I don’t care; I’ve spent the night in worse places than this.” Enjolras made a silent note to ask him about that, when he was in a better state, and not in hospital with his leg strung up.   
  
Before Enjolras has time to argue, Grantaire got up, stealing the spare blanket from the bottom of Enjolras’s bed and settled down under it. He rolled his eyes, and watched as R wriggled about on the chair, trying to get comfortable, and looking for all the world like a rather disgruntled cat. Enjolras briefly entertained the idea of asking Grantaire to join him in the bed, it was more the big enough, really it was about the size of a small double and Enjolras spent most of the last semester sharing a tiny single bed with Courfeyrac. Then he shook himself, he and R didn't do that kind of thing; they had a fairly successful youtube channel, they argued about politics and philosophers, they shared a couple of kisses when they both got blackout drunk, they didn't hold hands and they didn't share beds. But, Grantaire’s hand in his was all he could think about, like the warmth from R’s fingers had dance their way through his body and latched on to his brain; it sat there, unmoving and uncaring, and so did he.   
  
Grantaire was his friend because of Courfeyrac, in fact, he thought, everyone was his friend because of Courfeyrac. Courf had dragged R to watch Enjolras dance, R had decided that they’d work well together aesthetically speaking; they had set up the youtube channel a month or so later, it was doing well and they were earning a little extra money from it. They weren't close friends, Grantaire pushed all of Enjolras’s buttons with his easy smirk and careless attitude; though he was sweet and caring, and Enjolras really needed to stop thinking about it. If he didn't he would have to delve into a box of feelings and junk that he had mentally locked away inside his head, he had thrown that key away a long time ago.   
  
He could feel the throbbing of his leg, the pain medication must have been slowly wearing off; he could feel a dull ache there too, pervasive in nature, with seemingly only one purpose, to keep him from sleeping. He sighed, rolling his head around on his shoulders, letting his neck give out a disgusting sort of crack. His butt was starting to go numb from sitting on the bed all day, he had never been very good at sitting still; it was one of the reasons his mother had dragged him to the school extra curricular fair. He ran his fingers through his hair, his leg itched underneath the plaster; the ache ricocheted through him as he brushed the tips of his fingers underneath the cast.  The hospital room felt too small, too airless, too sterile; he just wanted out, he wanted to dance. A desperate sob broke from him and he could feel hot angry tears work their way down his cheeks.   
  
“J?” Courf looked up at him from the sofa, “J, are you alright? Has the doctor come in?” Courf’s hair was mussed from sleeping against Combeferre, his curls were sticking up in every direction and his eyes were glassy from sleep.   
  
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Enjolras sighed, looking at his best friend, “I’m alright Gabriel. Go back to sleep.”  
  
“Mhmmmph okay, love you,” Courfeyrac mumbled as he buried his face back in to Ferre’s shoulder, though Enjolras was sure he hadn’t heard right.  
  
“Sure, Gab, g’night,” Enjolras rolled his eyes, looking around to see Grantaire blinking at him from the chair.   
  
“My God, you really are completely oblivious aren't you?” Grantaire huffed, “I bet you’re thinking that he loves you like a brother, or that you misheard, right?” Enjolras looked at him incredulously. “Jesus when Courfeyrac said you were dense he really meant it didn't he?”  
  
“What?” Enjolras looked at Grantaire, more than a little bit ruffled.   
  
“Nah, it’s not for me to tell you,” Grantaire shook his head. “Should I get a nurse in here to get you something to help you sleep?”  
  
“Uh, yeah, that’d be great. Grantaire, Ranae-“  
  
“You’re going to have to figure it out on your own, or ask Gabriel, I’m not telling you,” Grantaire shook his head again, his blue eyes wide, shining in the light from the machines.   
  
“I’m not so good with this kind of stuff,” Enjolras shrugged, “people I mean, I’m not so good with people.”   
  
“I know, but it really isn’t my place to tell you,” Grantaire smiled, feeling his frustration dissipate with Enjolras’s expression. He looked like a lost puppy, it was such a foreign look on Enjolras, that Grantaire wanted to take a picture of it.   
  
Before he could say another word, Grantaire was a at the door, poking his head round from left to right before moving out of the room. Enjolras was absorbed back in to his thoughts, he stared at Courfeyrac and Combeferre on the sofa, curled around each other; their limbs were tangled, Courfeyrac’s slighter and more spindly than Ferre’s but no less strong. He looked down at Combeferre’s thigh and caught sight of his and Courf’s hands clasped tight together; he must have been imagining things, they weren't really that closely wrapped around each other. He shook his head, letting his curls fall in to his eyes, he squeezed them tightly as something rose up in him, a monster rearing its head from somewhere deep inside him. He tried to tramp down, to not think about it, to focus on Grantaire coming back in to the room, a nurse in tow.   
  
“Something to help you sleep, yes?” The nurse asked, smiling blandly at Enjolras, whilst she checked the IV bag.   
  
“That’d be great, thanks,” Enjolras nodded, the nurse held out some pills; checked out Enjolras’s charts once again and then bustled out the room without another word. Grantaire looked at him and shrugged.   
  
“Well, goodnight, I guess,” Grantaire shrugged again, and settled back in the chair, throwing the discarded blanket back on top of him; his socked feet poking out of it. Grantaire’s floppy brown hair fell in front of his face and his nose wrinkled as it tickled it; he sniffed and tried to flick the hair away. Enjolras watched him as he began to feel the pills take affect, his mind grew cloudy as though someone had drawn net curtains around his brain. His let his head fall back against the pillow, the throbbing in his leg had subsided, it felt more like someone else’s pain, not his own. The pills worked their way through his system, shutting it down, he felt himself drifting off like a boat pulling away from shore.   
  
***  
  
Morning dawned with pain, light filtered through the tiny gaps in the black out curtains, Enjolras squinted against it as his brain slowly registered the pain in his knee. It hit him then, that all the work he’d ever put in to his dancing had been thrown away in one botched landing. That’s all it had taken to render him completely fucked, he had lost the one thing in life that kept him sane, the one thing that he felt had set him apart from his family; now he was just like his father. He leant his head against the pillow, it felt heavy, a physical ache made itself at home just below the back of his neck and spread out along his shoulders.   
  
“Morning, J,” Courfeyrac said, coming back into the room, he had four paper cups in a holder; the smell of coffee wafted out of them. “R?” Courf shook Grantaire’s shoulder, “I didn’t know your order so I just got you black.”  
  
“Thank fuck,” Grantaire made grabby hands at the cup, and actually moaned when he took his first sip.   
  
“Right, Enjy, I got you a vanilla latte,” Courfeyrac winked and handed Enjolras his coffee.   
  
“Thanks, Gabriel,” Enjolras smiled sheepishly, when Grantaire let out a pained sort of groan when he heard Enjolras’s coffee order.   
  
“Ferre, a tea with milk and honey,” Courf passed Combeferre the cup, “we missed the doctor last night didn't we? What’d they say? They took you into surgery and then didn't say anything cause we’re not family,”  
  
“I- uh- I’ve broken my kneecap, pretty badly. I won’t be able to walk for three to six months and I won’t be able to dance for maybe a year or more, if I can ever dance again that is,” he let out a shaky laugh that turned into more of a sob.  
  
“Enj-“ Combeferre started, then stopped again, his hands curled around the cup of tea, his mouth gaping open and closed as he tried to compute what Enjolras had just said. “You’re not going to be able to dance?”  
  
“Doesn’t look that way, no, not for a while. It’s okay, I’ll be okay,” Enjolras grimaced, frustrated tears pricking his eyes, threatening to break from the dam he’d put them in. Enjolras sounded like he was almost trying to convince himself that he’d be okay, not just his friends.   
  
“That’s rough, Buddy,” Courf said nodding and patting Enjolras on the shoulder.  
  
“Did you just… you did… you totally just quoted Avatar at him didn’t you?” Grantaire coughed, nearly spilling coffee down his shirt, “that’s rough, Buddy. I mean, come on Courf.”  
  
“I panicked okay! I didn't know what else to say, without sounding like a dick,” Courfeyrac spluttered, but he stole a sideways look at Enjolras, what was watching the scene with what looked like a small smile on his face. Courfeyrac knew his friend well enough to know that he’d said the right thing.   
  
“Nice,” Grantaire shook his head, his hair bouncing around, covering his eyes. “Real nice, Courf.” He broke off to mutter, “that’s rough, Buddy.”   
  
“I guess, you’re going to have to find someone else to dance in the next few videos, Taire, I’m sorry,” Enjolras muttered.   
  
“Like I said, we’ll figure something out, you can play the violin in the corner or something… actually that’s not a half bad idea, we’ve never had a live accompaniment before. It could be good,” Grantaire said slowly, as though he was figuring something highly complex out, “hey guys,” he looked at Courfeyrac and Combeferre, “how would you like to dance with me?”  
  
“Both of us?” Combeferre asked, looking up at R from his tea.   
  
“Why not?” Grantaire raised an eyebrow, a perfect arch, staring at Combeferre.  
  
“Wouldn’t it get messy?” Ferre said, he like tradition, and there was no exception when it came to dance.  
  
“I think it could work,” Courfeyrac, “it could be important as well. Your channel already breaks down barriers when it comes to men dancing together, why not break down some more, right?” Courfeyrac had this easy kind of warmth and it spread through the room. Combeferre looked at him, and Courf looked back, steady and as he smiled, R could see Combeferre give in.  
  
“Fine, we’ll dance,” Ferre shook his head, smiling as he pushed up his glasses, “what song should we do?”  
  
“Well,” Enjolras grinned, “we promised people Sam Smith, he’s the most requested artist we get.”  
  
“Sam Smith? I was thinking more Mozart, you know stuff we’ve done,” Combeferre looked a little nervous.  
  
“You’ve seen our channel, Ferre, we do dances to recent songs,” Grantaire grinned, impishly as he glanced at Courfeyrac.  
  
“I saw the dance to the Star Wars medley, that was awesome,” Courf laughed, “I’m down for Sam Smith.”   
  
“I’ve already practiced Lay Me Down,” Enjolras shrugged, “I can play it in my sleep.”  
  
“Excellent.” Grantaire looked back at Combeferre, “It’ll be fine, don’t worry so much. You’ve got this.” He slapped Combeferre on the shoulder.   
  
“Mr Enjolras?” Doctor Henrí poked his head into the room, “I’m just letting you know that you can collect your pain medication at reception, before you leave. First, can you sign these discharge papers; then you can be on your way.”  
  
“Great, thanks,” Enjolras nodded, a tight smile crossed his face.   
  
“You’ll need to come back in a week or two to check out the healing; we might be able to take off the cast, in about three months or so,” Henrí nodded, “after that, we’ll see about starting some physio.”  
  
“Awesome,” Enjolras nodded, stiffly again.  
  
“Right, well, do you want a wheelchair and crutches, or just the chair?”  
  
“Just the chair, Doc, if you give him crutches, he’ll just try and walk as soon as we get out of here.” Grantaire spoke over Enjolras. “Speaking of, when should he try crutches?”  
  
“Give it a week and he can be up on them, I wouldn't put any weight on it till we’ve seen you at the fracture clinic.” The Doctor smiled, dropped the forms by Enjolras’s bed and then hurried out of the room.  
  
“Shall we get out of here, then?” Courfeyrac said, after a nurse dropped off the chair.   
  
Enjolras looked at it, his lip curled in distaste, the chair sat there, glaring at the chair; his insides twisted. R moved forward and helped him into the chair, he sat down with an “oomph”, settling into the chair his leg stretched out in front of him. The nurse had also left a pair of crutches by the door; R grabbed and them and put them on Enjy’s lap.  
  
“Hey, on the bright side, we can now use you and your chair to carry things,” R patted Enjolras on the shoulder, before Combeferre pushed him out of the way and grabbed onto the handles of the chair. “Hey!”  
  
“I don’t trust you, you’d end up standing on the back and racing him down all the ramps,” Combeferre said, arching an eyebrow at Grantaire, he pushed Enjolras out of the door towards the reception desk.   
  
“I’ll have you know I take Enjolras’s recovery very seriously,” Grantaire huffed, following Courfeyrac out of the room, after doing a quick last sweep to check if they’d left anything behind.   
  
***  
  
They’d managed to score the biggest practise room, for the video. It was in the old part of the building, the ball room it was more commonly known as, with high sweeping windows and arched ceiling. They had the mirrors draped with black cloth and the room was dark, only a few bright spotlights illuminated two circles of light. Candles burned all over the rest of the floor, honestly set up had taken longer than it ever had done before. This was the most professional video set they’d ever done; Enjolras looked around grinning, the chair and cello was set up for him to hobble into.   
  
He’d gone to the clinic; his knee was doing okay, and the doctor had said that he could use the crutches to move about instead of being in the chair all the time, but he’d also said that as soon as Enjolras felt any pain he was to go to the chair. Enjolras was doing okay, apart from the small breakdown he’d had as he watched Courf, Ferre, and R practise without him. He really just wanted to dance again, though he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he might never dance again, very slowly. He shook it off and waited for R, Courf, and Ferre to press record on their cameras. Grantaire gave him a nod; he moved into the circle of light, set his crutches on the floor and waited.   
  
First, Courfeyrac walked into his circle, he handed Enjolras the cello; helped him place is properly with his leg outstretched in front of him. Courf stroked his face once, looking deep into his eyes before he leaped in to the larger circle they were using for the dance. Combeferre was next, he handed Enjolras his bow, placing it gently in his hand before kissing him gently on the forehead, and jumping in to Courfeyrac’s arms. Grantaire was last, he walked slowly towards Enjolras, he had nothing to give just a gentle touch; permission for Enjolras to start playing, R ruffled his hair and walked back into the black maw behind them, he’d enter the dance later.   
  
The dance was slow in the beginning, easy and flowing with the two in the light; Grantaire made for a shadow in the background, always moving but never fully seen. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were brilliant together, Courf was being thrown about by Ferre, getting caught and landing with ease. He was a wonder in the air, like gravity had no affect on him, like he was a leaf caught on currents; being buoyed and suspended of his own accord. Grantaire entered the light with a leap that cut one of Courf’s, who dropped like a puppet with cut strings, though he was soon being paraded around on Grantaire’s shoulders. As the tempo swelled things became more and more heated in the circle, Combeferre twisting his body around Grantaire, Courfeyrac caught in the middle; they made for a stunning tableau, a moment caught in statuesque beauty as Enjolras’s last notes hung in the room.   
  
The candles flickered, and Enjolras looked in the direction of the door, where a small crowd was watching through the tiny window. They exited the view of the cameras, the same way they had come; though this time, Grantaire helped Enjolras out of his seat, kneeling to pick up and hand him his crutches. Enjolras knew he was not the only one in the room with tears pricking his eyes. The mood was electric, the sort of feeling that come when something magical has been shared, the feeling that they could conquer the world.   
  
“I had no idea we’d be that, good,” Courfeyrac grinned, his eyes a little rounder and full of awe in the candlelight.   
  
“I knew,” Grantaire, his voice hoarse as he set about turning off the cameras and lights. “Ferre, can you blow out the candles?”  
  
“Huh? Oh, oh yeah sure,” Combeferre said dazedly moving towards the candles.   
  
“Are you okay, J?” Courf asked, sitting on the floor by Enjolras’s chair, looking up at him.   
  
“I’m fine,” Enjolras ruffled Courf’s hair fondly, “you should help Ferre, I don’t think he’s got enough puff left to blow out all those candles.”   
  
  



	2. Take me to the clouds above.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys' video goes viral, and there's love in the air.

Enjolras wasn't aware of what exactly was happening, all he knew was that his phone was going off as though one of his alarms had been set off early. He cracked open one eye, moaning a little as the early morning sun that had made it through a gap in the curtains assaulted him. He tried to turn over but stopped struggling when he remembered it was the cast that was weighing him down. Instead of turning to get at his phone, he stuck his arm out and felt along his bedside table for the phone, almost knocking over the two half empty glasses of water that seemed to live on the table. Finally he felt the rubber cord, and used that to drag the phone towards him. After he’d nearly blinded himself with the screen, he saw that there were twitter and youtube notifications filling the lock screen. He sat up quickly, propping himself against the headboard, scrolling through his twitter first; he could see that his follower count had nearly tripled, he had more than five hundred thousand followers now. He flicked to youtube, his breathing speeding up and his mind racing; their video had nearly two million views; their channel had gained a hundred thousand subscribers since they’d posted the video last night.   
  
“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself. “Holy shit.”   
  
The comments section was on fire, most of them positive; though Enjolras had scrolled through the usual homophobic ones he and Grantaire normally got. New views and comments were pouring in, and his twitter was still blowing up with new followers, despite the fact that all he did was start fights with people. He muted his notifications on all his social media, letting them roll in as he got himself up and, after he stuck his leg in plastic, he hopped into the shower.   
  
He was throwing on a shirt and packing his bag when his door banged; he hobbled over to it, and opened it to see Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Grantaire all standing outside his room; panting from running over to his accommodation. They all bore the same kind of look, panicked excitement lit up their features. Grantaire most of all, his blue eyes were bright with wild zeal, his hair was mussed from the wind outside, his shirt was buttoned wrong as though he’d gotten dressed in a hurry. Ferre’s glassed were perched crookedly on his face, and Courf’s usual mop of hair was even more mop like. Enjolras let them in with a wide grin, clearing space for them to sit on his bed.   
  
“So,” Courfeyrac began, “you checked your phone this morning?”  
  
“Yeah, I did, I’m- I don’t know how to react, man its-“ Enjolras stumbled over the words, the thrill he’d been feeling had built up inside him.  
  
“Uh huh, dude, Sam Smith fucking followed me,” Courf grinned.   
  
“We have to think about this logically-“ Ferre started, but stopped when his phone started to go off, “how the fuck did they find me? I didn't have my name in the description, I was usually in shadow, what the fuck.”  
  
“Oh yeah, ‘bout that,” Courf said, smiling sheepishly, “I tweeted you and they must have followed from there.”   
  
“Courf-,” Ferre sighed, pushing his glasses further on to his face.   
  
“Loosen up, man, we’re internet sensations,” Grantaire slapped Ferre on the shoulder, “this could be huge, its worth dealing with annoying fans for. People get jobs and shit from this kind of thing, people also make this kind of thing their actual job; its hard enough to find a job in this industry without turning this kind of opportunity down. We could make it big time right now.”  
  
“Yeah, except that doesn’t happen to normal people,” Ferre huffed and moved away from Grantaire, leaning further in Courfeyrac, who took his hand and squeezed it in apology, “it won’t happen to us, we’re just college dancers.”  
  
“But we’re really cute college dancers,” Courfeyrac batted his eyelashes at Ferre, “besides, you’ve got one foot in Paris, and R is practically in the Royal London. Enjolras-“ Courf stopped himself, “And Enjolras wasn’t exactly short on offers from loads of orchestras around the world. What I’m trying to say is, that we’re good; we know we’re good, so what’s the point in not using it for something that’s going to help people?”  
  
“We need to think though, do we want this? It’s not too late to stop-“  
  
“Combeferre, when has anything like this ever happened to anyone you know?” Enjolras spoke, tired of listening to logic, “to hell with being logical, all that’s gonna tell us to do, is to stop. I don’t want to stop, I like what we’re doing. Its fun and we’re breaking down stereotypes and homophobia as we go.”  
  
“Yeah, see that’s what I’m worried about. I’m good with breaking down barriers and all of that, I just don’t want it to hurt our chances of getting in to a good ballet company.” Ferre said, standing and making towards the door.   
  
“When will you ever get an opportunity to change things like this? Seriously, we were already thinking of setting up a group to change the ballet world; how is this any different, this is just us getting the chance to change it by doing the thing we love.” Grantaire stood and grabbed Ferre’s hand, “you can’t back out now.”  
  
“Fine, but I’m putting my twitter on private. We can set up a public group one, somewhere where they can talk to us without invading every part of our lives.” Ferre turned from the door and leaned up against the frame. “We’ll need to take some time and think about this a bit more before we post another video. We don’t know the full extent of how big this one is going to be.”   
  
“Well, we’re already on a million views.” Courfeyrac said, looking up from his phone, “which one of you is logged into the channel at the moment, then we’ll be able to access the stats.”   
  
“Uh, it’s on my laptop,” Enjolras turned to his desk and opened his computer.  
  
***  
  
Courfeyrac stood outside the science building, flicking through one of his text books, he’d had to run from the Arts building to meet Combeferre and now the other boy wasn’t even there. Late October sun filtered through the gaps in the branches of the trees that lined the path. He sat on one of the cold, green metal benches, absentmindedly turning the pages of his book, he was more caught up in his mind than in the words on the page in front of him. It wasn’t that Communication and Media was uninteresting, he really was happy with his major, but he couldn’t shake Combeferre out of his head. Something had shifted in the way they interacted, and Courf wasn’t sure if that was his brief stint as a Psych minor speaking, or if it was real. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing as a couple of strands came out, caught in his fingers. A leaf broke free from the tree above him, floating on the breeze that cradled it, laying it gently on the brick path; he toed at it, before feeling it crunch under his foot.   
  
“What did the leaf ever do to you?” Combeferre stood above him, hands looped around the strap of his bag.   
  
“It insulted me,” Courfeyrac sniffed, raising his head to look at Ferre, “shouldn’t have floated in to my bubble.”  
  
“Oh yeah? Where is your,” Ferre took a step closer, “bubble?” He raised an eyebrow, Courfeyrac could see it, as it poked out the top of his glasses.  
  
“Just about here,” he drew a circle around him and Combeferre.   
  
“Oh, do I get the special privilege of being allowed into your bubble then?” Ferre smiled, as he dropped his bag on the floor and sat next to Courfeyrac, close enough that Courf could feel him as he moved.   
  
“Of course. You are always allowed in my bubble,” Courfeyrac grinned and allowed himself to sneak a glance at Ferre.   
  
“I’m honoured,” Ferre smiled softly. “Tell me you’ve noticed this too.”  
  
“Noticed what?” Courfeyrac refused to let himself so much as breathe, he could feel the warm sun on his face; the breeze shifting his hair about slightly, he could hear the birds as they called out from their perches high on the branches above. He could also feel as Combeferre moved so that he was facing him, his knees brushing Courf’s; his hand on Courf’s thigh.  
  
“This,” and then, there was the most exquisite pressure on his lips.   
  
Warm and soft pressure, so, so inviting, as soft as the sun and breeze but growing hotter by the moment. Combeferre’s hand moved from his thigh to his face, where it came to rest on his cheek, pulling him in closer still. Courfeyrac leaned into the kiss, letting Ferre know that this was more than okay. His thoughts bounced about his mind, but instead of dwelling on them, he let them float out, focussing instead on Ferre’s lips and hands. He let go of the book on his lap, wincing a little as the fifty dollar text book fell on to the ground, but he let his hands drift to tangle themselves in Combeferre’s hair. He ran them down the back of Ferre’s neck, and down his back, before they came to rest around Ferre’s waist.   
  
“Yeah, I had noticed that,” Courfeyrac smiled weakly, leaning his forehead against Ferre’s.  
  
“Thank god, I thought it was just me,” Combeferre looked at him, “there is something I need to tell you though and I think it’s best if I come out and say it now.”  
  
“What? Is it bad? What did I do? It was Enjolras’s idea, I swear,” Courf rambled, leaning back so he could see Combeferre properly.  
  
“It’s not you, it’s me,-“   
  
“God, it sounds like you’re breaking up with me; we haven’t even gone on a date,” Courf laughed, then he caught sight of Combeferre’s expression, “sorry.”  
  
“I’m not, definitely not breaking up with you. What I meant to tell you was that, I’m, um. Wait, do you think it’s possible to like more than one person at a time?” Combeferre looked at him, his hands were folded in his lap, as he fidgeted with a nail.   
  
“You mean like, like?” Courf paused as the other boy nodded, “I, I guess. Why, you like someone else as well as me?”  
  
“I think so,” Combeferre nodded, “I wanted to tell you before things got serious, give you an out, I guess.” He chuckled weakly, scratching the back of his neck.   
  
“Who?” Courfeyrac blurted, before covering his mouth with his hand, blushing, “sorry, that was really personal. You don’t have to answer that.”  
  
“No, I do, I’ve gotta be honest with you,” Combeferre smiled, “and maybe I gotta be honest with myself as well, there’re two others-“  
  
“Not Enjolras and R,” Courf watched as Ferre’s cheeks turned red, “oh my god. You have to tell them.”  
  
“Wait, what?” Combeferre turned to Courf, his brows furrowed.   
  
“Dude, I can totally see why, they’re both really hot; besides, I think that if all of us dated we’d be like the hottest, uh, group on campus,” Courf grinned, “R has that attractive sleep deprived hipster look, and I mean Enjy could literally have stepped out of some renaissance painting or something. I can totally see why you wanna get on that.”  
  
“So, you’re cool with it?” Ferre was smiling too,  he barked out a short laugh.  
  
“Uh huh, especially if you’re cool with me getting in on the action,” Courf winked, but Ferre blushed even harder, he coughed slightly. “You’ve totally thought about it!” Courf gasped.   
  
“No, no I haven’t-“ Combeferre spluttered.   
  
“You have! You’ve thought about me making out with Enjolras and R!” Courf laughed, “I mean shit, we’d be really fucking hot, but, dude- actually, we would be really fucking hot.”   
  
“I don’t think Enjolras- I always thought Enjy was aro/ace. I mean he’s never shown interest in anyone and he totally shot down any moves I played on him before.” Ferre shrugged sadly, pushing his glasses further on his nose where they’d slipped down.  
  
“Yeah, actually I think you might be right. We should ask Grantaire though, I’m sure he’d be down, I swear I catch him eyeing us every now and then, not that I blame him,” Courfeyrac said, gesturing to them both and waggling his eyebrows.   
  
“Be serious,” Ferre shook his head.   
  
“Dude, no,” Courfeyrac punched Combeferre lightly on the shoulder, laughing, “we should go, we said we’d go over the next routine with R. Hey, maybe we could ask him now?”   
  
“On a date, or…?” Ferre grinned.   
  
“Not sure, yet, I’ll figure it out on the way there,” Courfeyrac smiled as he picked up his book from the floor and stood, holding his hand out for Combeferre. Ferre their fingers together, squeezing them; he kissed Courf on the cheek as he stood up, grabbing his bag and letting Courfeyrac lead the way to the sports block.   
  
Grantaire was running through stretches on the bar, his entire torso flat against his leg; his toes pointed in front of him. Courfeyrac took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, Grantaire was lit by the sun behind him, deep gold rays making his dark hair seem almost see through. His cropped shirt had risen up slightly, showing his skin, tan compared to his white leggings; his back muscles tightly bunched due to the stretch. His arms were extended out, on show because of the tank top he was wearing; his fingers gripped on to his toes. As he moved and breathed, Courf could see his muscles bunch and relax, slowly and enticingly he moved out of the stretch and turned to face them.  
  
“Do I have something on my face?” Grantaire asked, looking between them both, “did someone draw on my face whilst I took my daily nap in the library again?” Grantaire was sweating slightly from warm up, his cheeks held a dash of pink, it was dusted lightly across his cheekbones. “Guys?”   
  
“Ah, no, no, you’re fine.” Ferre said, “there’s nothing on your face.”  
  
“Not yet, anyway,” Courfeyrac muttered, he felt Combeferre elbow him in the side, and saw out the corner of his eye how Ferre turned red, the blush spreading down past the collar of his sweater; Courf was struck with a sudden desire to see just how far down the blush spread.   
  
“What’ve you two done? You’re acting like you’ve done something; should I get the fire department? The police?” Grantaire said, walking towards them, his hips swayed, and his hair came a little loose from its bun; a strand curled just to the left of his eye. He smirked as he came to a stop, very close to Courf, who took a step backwards instinctively. “You know, you really do look like you’re up to something. Coming in here with you conspiratorial smiles and non-verbal communication, how are supposed to dance together if you wont tell me what you’ve done?” Grantaire backed Courfeyrac up against the wall, his voice was soft and low, a smirk painted across his lips, showed the tips of his teeth; his tongue poked out, it moved across his lips, leaving them pink and wet.   
  
Combeferre grabbed Grantaire’s wrist, pulling him away from Courfeyrac, who breathed out for the first time in what felt like hours. Grantaire grinned, looking Combeferre up an down, before tilting his head to the side.   
  
“Interesting,” he said, moving towards Combeferre, “very interesting.”  
  
“Actually,” Combeferre smiled, the blush still coloured him red, “that was what we wanted to talk to you about.”  
  
“Oh?” Grantaire walked away from them both, he sat on a chair on the opposite side of the room, one leg crossed over the other.   
  
“Once Gabriel has recovered enough to talk, I’ll explain,” Combeferre sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, he pulled his ballet shoes and leggings out of his bag and set about getting changed. “We were talking-“  
  
“And kissing,” Courfeyrac spluttered, Grantaire grinned again and raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Yes, and kissing. I wanted to be completely honest with Courf, I’m ninety nine percent sure I’m polyamorous.” Combeferre looked at Grantaire’s face, making sure he was still following the conversation, Grantaire nodded and waved a hand. “I think I have feelings for more than just one person, and Courfeyrac said he didn’t mind.”  
  
“Do you want me to help you seduce Enjolras then? Is this where this conversation is heading? Cause I’m pretty sure Enjolras is aro/ace.” Grantaire shook his head.   
  
“Not quite, though we can talk about that later-“  
  
“Hey, R, wanna make out?” Courfeyrac smiled, as Combeferre choked, “that’s what he was getting at.”   
  
Grantaire turned to Combeferre, his eyebrows raised even higher. Courfeyrac walked towards Grantaire, pausing quickly to look at Combeferre; when the other boy did nothing to stop him, he continued on his way. It was Grantaire’s turn to blush, red spreading down the column of his neck, it coloured his chest where it the skin was visible below the collar of his top. Courf was close enough now to see how Grantaire had stopped breathing, his lips parted, his pupils blown so wide Courfeyrac could see his own reflection. He stopped not far from Grantaire’s face, bent down enough for him to lean in and kiss R, he didn't though; he gave Grantaire the opportunity to pull away. Then he felt hands winding their way around the back of his neck, pulling him in and making him sit on Grantaire’s lap. Courfeyrac grinned as he kissed Grantaire, allowing himself to wallow in the touch, to relish in the heat and sensuality of the kiss. R’s lips were warm and soft, moving against his with just the right amount of pressure, Courf ran his tongue along them, feeling Grantaire open up for him as he broke into to a smile. Courfeyrac gave into desire and ran his hands through Grantaire’s hair, pulling it free of its bun, letting it fall around his shoulders.   
  
“Living up to your expectations, Ferre?” Grantaire panted when they finally pulled apart to breathe.   
  
“More than I ever thought possible,” Combeferre blushed even harder, though Courf could see from where he was that Ferre was definitely enjoying the show.   
  
“Get on over here, then,” Grantaire beckoned, “I haven’t kissed you yet, and quite frankly that is a travesty.”   
  
Combeferre pushed himself up, his bare feet stuck to the floor a little, his breath came in fast and hot as he walked towards Grantaire; he couldn't take his eyes off the two in front of him. Courfeyrac was flushed, his lips red and parted; his eyes were glazed slightly; Grantaire’s eyes were sharp as he watched Combeferre walk, they moved up and down his body, suddenly Combeferre felt self conscious. Courf was still seated on Grantaire’s lap, so R had to twist his head in order to kiss Ferre properly.   
  
“Oh,” the noise was soft and startled, nothing more than a sharp intake of air.   
  
“Enjolras-“  
  
“No, it’s fine, I was interrupting; don’t worry,” Enjolras turned and was out of the door before any of them could do anything about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, keep commenting and kudosing, it makes my day and might make the next chapter come along even sooner.
> 
> Yell at me on tumblr: obi-wan-kxnxbi.tumblr.com if you wanna know more or if you wanna have a chat, my ask box is always open.


	3. Strung up in the air.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lil angsty but things'll get better... I promise.

 

Enjolras moved as fast as he could away from the room, his breaths coming fast and his eyes blurring with tears, white hot emotions pierced through him; filling him from top to toe, giving him no room in his head to think. His backpack swung from side to side and he tried to move faster, the crutched and cast making him slow and ungainly. He felt like he had when he’d found out about his knee, like the tide was swallowing him home with no hope of ever surfacing again. He got out of the sports building, and let himself collapse on to a bench outside it, he closed his eyes and let the evening sun soak into him. He sucked in fresh air and took a few seconds, before the tears came, they rolled down his cheeks hot and fast and showing all the emotions he felt. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his legs, resting his head in his hands as he sobbed. 

 

Enjolras wasn’t really sure what he was feeling exactly, betrayal, anger, regret, loneliness all seemed to play a part in him. Jealousy was also present, rearing its head, a big green monster filling up the cavity in his chest. It roared with him, threatening to swallow him whole, Enjolras tramped it down. Refusing to let it over take him, refusing to let it have him. He grit his teeth and thought about what he’d seen. Maybe they had been practicing and he'd stormed out unnecessarily; though he knew in his heart that it wasn’t true. They had been kissing; the look on Combeferre’s face before he’d seen Enjolras in the doorway was one that that Enjolras had wished to see before. Though he hadn’t wanted to see it like that. 

 

He knew he wasn’t good at expressing himself, not in the way the other three were. He wasn’t great with intimate things, or emotions, though, he wished now that he was. Sure, he could inspire people to follow him, to love him in the way One loves a leader or a piece of art; but he had never had someone love him for simply being himself. He’d had hookups and a relationship that had lasted about a month in school, but no one had ever looked at him the way Combeferre had looked at Grantaire and Courfeyrac. He wished he did. He wish with all his heart. People thought he was marble, but inside he was not, inside he was just a normal person; and he was very much in love with his three best friends. His tears had rolled down his wrists, and were now soaking into the sleeves of his jumper; he watched them as they turned the fabric a darker red, it was almost crimson now. 

 

“Enjolras? Enjy?” A small soft voice said from somewhere near his left. “Can I sit?” Courfeyrac said.

 

Enjolras didn't say anything, he just shrugged and shifted over to the left. He felt Courf sit down next to him, felt his warmth and his shoulder as it brushed against his own. Enjolras refused to let himself lean into Courfeyrac, knowing that if he did he’d not have the strength to move. 

 

“You’re with Grantaire and Combeferre?” He said, his voice cracking slightly, he rubbed his eyes, letting the sting of pain soak through him. 

 

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac nodded, “yeah I am. This wasn’t how you were supposed to find out.”

 

“That’s real comforting, thanks Gabriel,” Enjolras said as he turned away from Courfeyrac. “You know, we’ve been friends since we were three. I would have thought you’d be a little kinder to me.”

 

“I’m sorry, we really didn't mean for you to find out like that. We were going to tell you tonight, but things happened and we didn't know that you were going to come to this practice. We thought-“

 

“What. What did you think?” Enjolras was very close to crying again, “did you think that just because I can’t dance, I wouldn't want to be involved with my own youtube channel?”

 

“This isn’t about that, come on, you have to believe me. When have I ever done anything to hurt you?” Courfeyrac ducked his head to better look into Enjolras’s eyes. His eyes were warm and the sun filtered through them making them look like whisky. Strands of his hair blew into his face in the light wind, his skin turned a dark gold colour; he smile was small but warm; everything about him was warm and light. 

“Courf, please, I just want to be alone,” Enjolras sniffed, “just go back to the practice, we need to get this video up soon.”

 

“You don’t. You don’t want to be alone. Come on, lets go back to my dorm; we’ll watch Mulan and eat the rest of the ice cream in my fridge. I’ll call the other two and tell them to practice without me.” Courfeyrac smiled as Enjolras’s face softened. “Like you said, I’ve been your friend since we were three, I know you. Now come on, hand me your backpack.” 

 

“Fine,” Enjolras allowed his shoulders to sag as Courfeyrac took his bag and slung it on to his shoulders, already on the phone to the others. 

 

“They said it was okay, and that they have a lift they’ve been planning that needs practising so I’m good,” Courfeyrac grinned, and started to walk to his dorm. “They also said that if you’ve any questions, you can ask me.”

 

“Okay,” Enjolras took a deep breath, calming himself down enough to talk. “When?”

 

“When did we?” Courfeyrac finished, looking at Enjolras for confirmation that he’d understood, “this afternoon when I went to meet Ferre after his physics class, we were sitting on the benches outside the building and he kissed me.”

 

“Right,” Enjolras looked down, focussing on the floor instead of having to look at Courfeyrac’s face. “Sure, that’s- that’s fine. I’m fine. Can we go watch that movie now?” 

 

“Yeah, but I’m warning you, I’m totally gonna sing the whole thing,” Courf grinned butted his shoulder against Enjolras’s lightly, looking up at the trees as they walked. 

 

“You always do,” Enjolras smiled back, though inside he felt like he was shattered in to a thousand pieces. 

 

***

 

Grantaire and Ferre sat on the floor of the practice room in silence, their backs up against the mirror, coolness from the glass seeping through their clothes. Ferre pressed his fingers to his forehead, pushing his glasses up further on to his nose, and sighing. Grantaire traced the swirling patterns in the dust that was caught in the white, bright sun that streamed in through the windows. They sat there, together but alone at the same time, neither saying anything; nor acknowledging the presence of the other. The silence stretching through them; it permeated through their skin, filling them up and carry them with it on its all consuming waves. Grantaire started to tap a meaningless rhythm on the floor, before Ferre stood, holding out his hand. 

 

“I’m not going to sit here and wait, Courf knows how to handle Enjolras, besides it’s not like we were doing anything wrong.” Combeferre said, “we’ve a routine to practice. Knowing Courfeyrac, they’re probably watching Mulan or something, right now. We know he’s okay, so why don’t we get on with what we’re supposed to be doing.”

 

“I have a couple of questions, first, if that’s okay?” Grantaire took Ferre’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

 

“Sure,” Ferre shrugged, moving to where he’d left his dance shoes. 

 

“I need to know for my own sanity, was this a one time deal or…?” He took a deep breath and prayed to whomever was listening to let him have this one thing. 

 

“It was whatever you want it to be. A one time deal, or a- a many time deal,” Ferre smiled, bending down to strap on his shoe. “Courf and I talked, I have feelings for you, R. Just like I have feelings for Courf, and I’m pretty sure Courf doesn’t particularly mind. Judging by his actions today.” 

 

“So… this is a _thing_ … _is_ this a thing? I’d like it to be a thing, if you want-“ Grantaire babbled.

 

“I’d like it to be a thing too,” Ferre nodded.

 

“There’s a but coming, I know it, just let me have this moment,” Grantaire closed his eyes. “Okay, go on,” he said about twenty seconds later. 

 

“ _But_ we should talk to Courfeyrac and Enjolras,” Ferre said. 

 

“Enj did seem pretty upset, maybe he does have feelings after all,” Grantaire chuckled, reaching his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck.

 

“Taire, you know Enjolras is emotionally constipated, its not fair to make fun,” Combeferre laughed a little anyway, he eyes lighting up and his cheeks bunching in to a smile; Grantaire felt his breath catch in his throat. 

 

It was hard to concentrate on the dance, for both of them. Grantaire felt too almost too much of Combeferre as he leaped in to his arms; his legs moving round his waist, ankles linking at the small of his back.Combeferre looked down, his hands cupping Grantaire’s cheeks, thumbs stroking slightly at his cheekbones. Time seemed to stretch on languidly, leaving them behind, in their own little pocket of existence. The sun beams that danced in through the windows split up into individual fractals; they wound their way in through Ferre’s hair, rainbows breaking through and turning the individual hairs into glass. Grantaire moved one of his hands and placed it against Ferre’s chest, just over where his heart was thumping wildly, letting his fingers trail over Ferre’s body. His hand ended up cupping the back of Combeferre’s head, rubbing the stubble left behind from where he had shaved his head; he tugged Ferre’s head down and captured his lips. As they kissed, Ferre’s hands moved from R’s cheeks to his shoulders and down his arms, Ferre’s thumbs stroked across his skin. 

 

“We really should wait,” R murmured into Ferre’s lips.

 

“Yeah, we really should,” Combeferre rubbed their noses together, letting his lips ghost R’s. “We really, really should wait.”

 

***

 

“I’m not ace, you know,” Enjolras said, just as Shang was singing about being a man.

 

“Oh,” Courf paused the movie and looked at him.

 

“I know everyone thinks I am, but I’m not, I just don’t you know… have a lot of,” Enjolras gestured wildly, swinging his arm to the side.

 

“Sex?” Courf raised an eyebrow, still looking at Enjolras.

 

“Yeah,” Enjolras coughed and reached for the remote, but Courfeyrac yanked it away from him.

 

“You know, I never actually came out to you,” Courf said, “and you’ve come out to me before, so. Hi, I’m Gabriel de Courfeyrac and I am incredibly pansexual.” 

 

“Courf-“

 

“There, now you know,” Courf grinned and handed Enjolras the popcorn.  


“Fine, I’m Julien Enjolras, and I’m very, _very,_ gay,” Enjolras smiled back, “oh and just incase you forgot, I am the most manly man ever. And, I just gave away my last binder to a kid from Arkansas.”

 

“You did? I thought you were going to keep it?” Courfeyrac took back the popcorn, after Enjolras had thrown a handful into his mouth. “Also, since now that I know not to set up with the cute girl in my visual media class, how about the cute boy in my classical ballet class?”

 

“I was going to keep it, a memory you know? But this kid is 14 and he’s desperate and it was just sitting there, barely used so,” Enjolras shrugged, “and, how about no to the cute boy in classical ballet.” 

 

“He’s got pretty eyes,” Courf flopped on to his stomach, he turned to face Enjolras. 

 

“I don’t care-“

 

“Ooooh, do you have a thing for someone already?” Courf turned on top his back, looking at Enjolras upside down. 

 

“…why do I have to have a thing for someone for you to stop trying to set me up with random people in your classes?” Enjolras sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and laughing a little exasperatedly.

 

“You are, aren’t you?” Courf clapped gleefully, a smile split his face in two, wide and toothy with his tongue poking out on the left. His brown eyes were crinkled and light shone from them, warm and comforting and exactly what Enjolras could not say no to. 

 

“I- I- I might be interested in someone, but they’re taken,” Enjolras coughed, looking away from Courf, instead focussing on his socked feet, he wiggled his toes, trying to see if they still worked or if he really had died from embarrassment. 

 

“Well, there’s only one thing to do,” Courf grinned again, but this time, is was conspiratorial; he winked at Enjolras, “you just have to win them over. Shouldn’t be too hard, I mean, look at you.”

 

“You mean, convince them to leave their boyfriend and go for me instead?” Enjolras looked at Courf, his eyebrow creeping up his forehead, “what if I- what if I find their boyfriend attractive too?” Enjolras hoped he wasn’t being too obvious.

 

“Then you have another solution, a way to fix everything with no one getting upset!” Courf grinned even wider.

 

“Oh?” Enjolras decided to play dumb, to pretend he hadn't looked up how he felt, and cried for two days just knowing that other people felt the same.

 

“Polyamory,” Courf waved his hands in the shape of a rainbow, “duh.”

 

“Oh, like you, Ferre, and R,” Enjolras nodded slowly.

 

“Exactly, no messy love triangles and you get two people to cuddle with,” Courf kept his eyes on Enjolras, studying his reaction intently.

 

“Yeah, that could work,” Enjolras said, as though he was assessing the best way to start an assignment. 

 

“It’s the answer to all the problems in YA literature, to be honest,” Courfeyrac shrugged and sat up, reaching for the remote. 

 

“You know, I think you might be right,” Enjolras smiled, softly, pretending that Courf wasn’t breaking his heart when he laid his head on Enjolras’s shoulder. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments keep me writing, sorry this took so long. Honestly this chapter was a bitch and I kind of hate it??? Idek but I hope you liked it anyways...
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr: obi-wan-kxnxbi.tumblr.com


	4. Give me wings to fly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did say that things would get better...

Grantaire looked up at the rapidly darkening sky, he sighed as he felt the first few drops of rain come down on his face, he slung his bag up to cover his already unruly hair. It had been three weeks since Enjolras had caught him, Combeferre and Courfeyrac in the practise room together; he had barely spoken to Grantaire since. It was like they had been before they’d first got paired up to dance together, before Enjolras had had his top surgery they had been strangers who had argued across rooms during their political science class. Then, when they were forced to spend time together; to trust each other, it had changed, they’d become friends and now, it was like they’d never been friends at all. The drops of rain became more and more insistent, dripping off his bag in small rivers; the pavement he was walking on was slowly becoming a stream more than anything else. He resigned himself to his watery fate and kept walking towards the humanities building. 

 

When he finally got inside the lecture theatre, Enjolras was already there, sitting in his usual spot; his leg was propped up on the chair in front of him. Grantaire slid in beside him, nearly tripping over Enjolras’s crutches. He eyed Enjolras up and down once, envious that he was dry and not dripping like Grantaire was. 

 

“How are you so dry? It’s raining like the second coming out there,” Grantaire nudged Enjolras’s shoulder slightly, pretending not to notice the way Enjolras flinched away from him. 

 

“I had another lecture before this,” Enjolras looked up for about ten seconds, not bothering to turn to Grantaire, before he focused back on his laptop. 

 

“Enj please, talk to me,” Grantaire leaned away from Enjolras, giving him some space, but he brought his hand up to lightly touch Enjolras’s shoulder. 

 

“There’s nothing to be said,” Enjolras shrugged, R glanced at his computer screen he still had five minutes before the lecturer came in.

 

“Enjolras please, what did I do?” He was not above begging. 

 

“I just, I need time to adjust to you being with…” he trailed off, waving a hand at Grantaire.

 

“Wait, is that it? You don’t like me being with Courf and Ferre.” He paused, gauging Enjolras’s reaction; he blushed, right down to the collar of his shirt, his hands clenching as he took a deep breath.“Enjolras, are you jealous?” Grantaire tipped his head to the side, his eye lighting up.

 

“No. Of course I’m not, its a shock when your three best friends suddenly start making out in practise rooms is all; so fucking forgive me if I need time and space to adjust to this pretty major fucking change.” Enjolras finally turned to Grantaire, “don’t fucking flatter yourself by thinking that I am jealous, jesus R, contrary to your belief my world does not revolve around you, Ferre, and Courf.” 

 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” R flung his hands up, “I didn’t think-“

 

“That’s it! You didn’t think, none of you thought about how I’d feel about the whole thing, you just went a head and did it; in a public place, where you must have known that I’d come in and see you. I might not be very good at expressing myself, but I do have fucking feelings.” 

 

“What do you mean, how you would feel?” 

 

“God R, you called me dense, but all three of you are fucking denser than concrete.” 

 

“Wait what?” R’s head was spinning, but before he could think further about what Enjolras had said, the lecturer was striding in and flicking on the powerpoint. 

 

After the class was over, they only had an hour before their next lecture, normally they’d hang out on the comfy sofas outside the room but Grantaire wasn’t sure if he was welcome in Enjolras’s space anymore. He chose to let Enjolras decide, he stood by the side of the bank of seats as Enjolras stood and gathered up his stuff, then he followed Enjolras out of the theatre. Enjolras sat down on the sofa, putting his bag on the floor and looking up at R expectantly. Grantaire sat, awkwardly, letting Enjolras choose whether or not to speak, or if they were just going to sit there.

 

“What I meant was, none of you asked me… no one bothered to find out if…” Enjolras sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“I’m not following? You have… _feelings_ feelings? I thought you were…?” Grantaire noticed the way Enjolras blushed and looked down at his cast, his fingers tugging at the sleeves of his favourite red jumper, the one Grantaire had picked out for him when they’d gone to London. 

 

“Yeah, that’s what Courf said; honestly it’s like you guys just chose to make up my sexuality for me,” Enjolras shrugged, “I mean it’s fine but…” Enjolras made an odd sort of gesture, where he lurched forward a little before he grimaced having put weight on his leg. “Fuck.” 

 

“Wait… I'm not following… Enjolras, do you have feelings for any of us, cause you know Ferre said-“

 

“Ferre said what?” Enjolras’s head snapped up, his cheeks colouring slightly a hint of pink dusting across his perfectly marble white skin; his blond curls falling in front of his bright blue eyes as they stared intently at Grantaire.

 

“Ferre said that he wanted to talk to you about it but wasn't sure because he assumed you were-“

 

“So that’s why both of you thought…? Honestly that boy… for someone so fucking smart he is also so incredibly stupid… emotional range of a fucking teaspoon.” Enjolras laughed, Grantaire noticed the way the skin around his eyes crinkled as he sat on the sofa. 

 

“Wait, you mean Ferre was wrong?”

 

“Oh man, he was totally wrong, I just care a lot about human rights, _my god,_ ” Enjolras stopped laughing, going completely still, his lips parted and a smile dancing across his face. 

 

He looked like an angel, at least that’s what Grantaire saw sitting in front of him, an angel illuminated in terrible fluorescent lights. Outside the window the storm was still going on, rain lashed against the glass, wind slamming into the window shaking it in its pane. Grantaire couldn't bring himself to notice the outside world at that moment, because Enjolras was looking at him like he’d always wanted him to. His blue eyes darting down to Grantaire’s lips, his hands, smooth and pale, coming up to trace along Grantaire’s jaw and cheekbones. Grantaire could only breathe in a choked breath as Enjolras leant forward and pressed a kiss into his lips. It was chaste, dry, and soft, yet as Enjolras pulled back, Grantaire couldn't help but relive it over and over again. 

 

“I’m sorry- I- I- shouldn’t… you’re with-“

 

“Trust me, they’ll be more than fine with this,” Grantaire leant back in, drawing Enjolras to him, cradling him against himself, as he pressed kiss after kiss to Enjolras’s lips and cheeks. Somewhere in the moment, Enjolras had started laughing, a high musical sound that Grantaire wanted to live in. “Hang on,” Grantaire paused, “when you were ranting about Ferre, did you quote Harry Potter?”

 

“Really? You wanna do this now?” Enjolras sighed, resting his forehead against Grantaire’s.

 

“I just always thought you were a robot with no appreciation for pop culture,” Grantaire grinned as Enjolras’s face turned into that of a disgruntled kitten.

 

“Ranae, it’s Harry Potter, of course I know it-“

 

“When he was younger he used to want to be Ron, he’d dressed up in a black sheet and wave sticks around,” Courfeyrac was walking up the stairs, “this looks awfully cosy lads, could this perhaps be the boy you had a crush on? The one with the boyfriend?” Courf grinned and plopped himself down on Grantaire’s lap, wriggling between them. 

 

“Fine use me as your seat, that’s fine, I don’t mind; I’m just here,” Grantaire muttered into Courf’s neck, though he had a dopey sort of smile stretched across his face as he buried his hand in Courf’s hair, stroking through the soft brown curls. 

 

“Uh,” Enjolras leaned back, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck, “maybe?” 

 

“Because if you’re worried about me and Ferre being okay with it, trust me, _I_ am more than okay with it,” Courf winked and grinned wider at Enjolras’s increasing discomfort. 

 

“Oh fine, ignore me completely, no ‘Hi R! How’ve you been?’ that’s fine,” Grantaire chuckled quietly to himself, but stopped as Courf rolled his eyes and turned around to kiss him gently. 

 

“How long were you- how much did you see?” Enjolras coughed, blushing bright red now, so much so that it dipped down below the collar of his hoodie. 

 

“Oh I saw enough,” Courfeyrac didn’t take his eyes off Enjolras, “do you mind if I?” He said, leaning forward, and tucking a little bit of Enjolras’s hair behind his ear. 

 

“I don’t, I really don’t,” Enjolras choked a little. 

 

Grantaire let himself watch, thankful for the fact that the sofa was in a small alcove, out of view from the rest of the hallway; he was also grateful for the fact that the hallway was empty because he could have sworn he heard Enjolras moan a little as Courf kissed him. Grantaire couldn't help but blush, because quite frankly, Enjolras and Courf looked almost pornographic as they kissed. Enjolras’s cool, paler than pale skin standing out against Courf’s warm, brown, though slightly flushed skin; their hair tangled a little together as Courf buried his hands in Enjolras’s gold curls. 

 

“Guys, maybe public isn’t the best place for this, plus I’m pretty sure we have a lecture now,” Grantaire coughed shifting a little, as he prodded Courf’s shoulder.

 

Enjolras surfaced from the kiss first, a small smile moving across his face when he caught sight of Grantaire, his hair was a complete mess, though he didn’t seem to care much as he got up on his crutches and pushed Courf off R. Courf sprawled out on the sofa, his hand in front of his eyes, a toothy grin spread out across his face; his legs rested on the arm of the sofa, as R vacated his half of it. 

 

“Are you going to wait here for us? So we can all go and meet Ferre after his lab?” Enjolras asked, lifting up Courf’s arm so that he could see his face.

 

“Ferre?” Courf croaked.

 

“Yes, you know, Theodore Combeferre, your boyfriend?” Enjolras gently slapped Courf’s face, “Wake up Gabriel, we need to go and talk to him.”

 

“Oh so that wasn’t a one off then?” Courf sat up his grin getting impossibly wider.

 

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” Enjolras blushed again, and looked down at his cast.

“Hell no, I don’t,” Courf said, “yeah I’ll wait for you, all I’ve got to do today is edit this video thing, I can do it just as well here as I can on the comm arts floor.” 

 

Enjolras smiled, and nodded, before he made his way to the lecture theatre, Grantaire following behind him, trying to work out what had just happened; it didn't seem like only ten minutes had passed. He tried to wrap his head around the events of the last few minutes but his brain was stalling and crashing every time he thought about it, being his brain, it crashed on the image of Enjolras and Courf kissing; he thought that this would make the next hour of lecture go by very slowly. 

 

***

 

The three of them walked through the rain to the science labs. Grantaire muttered to himself about the rain, which was heavier than it had been before, his hair was going to be completely impossible and they had a video to film as well, he tugged a hand through the rapidly matting curls, sighing as his fingers got caught. His shoes were soaked through, so much so that his feet were in puddles, he hadn't had the money to replace the vans that were falling apart on his feet because he’d been in need of new tap shoes this semester. Even his jacket, which was supposedly waterproof, was letting in the rain; there was no sun in the sky, just dark angry clouds. The leaves were being ripped off the trees, they were spiralling down to earth with an awful finality; the summer was well and truly over, winter had come to them with a vengeance. They huddled in the foyer of the labs, dripping on to the floor and shifting awkwardly with the air of being somewhere they didn't belong. 

 

“Oh, hi!” Ferre said as he hurried out the lab, his bag slung over his shoulder, thumbs hook through the straps again. He still had the safety goggles on top of his head. “I didn't think all three of you would come to meet me.”

 

“Ferre, you’ve still got your goggles on,” Courf said, pinging them against Ferre’s head. 

 

“Shite, lemme just go and drop them off then, be back in a minute,” Ferre sighed, spinning around and dashing back into the labs. He was back out in a minute or so, “so what’s the occasion? Why am I blessed enough that all three of you decided to come and meet me today?” 

 

“You know how you thought Enjy was, uh, ace?” Courf said, as Ferre nodded and raised an eyebrow, “He’s not.”

 

“Oh,” Ferre said, “ _Oh._ ” 

 

“I want in,” Enjolras stepped forward, looking up at Ferre, “if you’ll have me, of course.”

 

“I’d be a complete and utter fool if I said no, wouldn’t I?” Combeferre grinned and kissed Enjolras on the forehead, hugging him gently. “Of course, of course I want you. I’m sorry for making assumptions about you.”

 

“It’s alright, just maybe talk to me next time?” Enjolras chuckled as he leaned into Combeferre, not even a little bit concerned that he was getting Ferre wet. 

 

“I will, of course I will,” Ferre rested his chin against the top of Enjolras’s head, his thumbs rubbing small circles in to the tops of Enjy’s arms.

 

“Who’s up for a movie night? We could film the video tomorrow instead, besides we look fairly horrific because of the rain,” Courfeyrac said, “I’ve still got some of that microwave popcorn!”

 

“As long as its not Legally Blonde, again,” Enjolras moaned into Ferre’s chest. 

 

“How dare you! Legally Blonde is a masterpiece,” Courf gasped.

 

“I agree but you called me Elle for three months the last time we watched it,” Enjolras said, surfacing and turning a glare on Courf. 

 

“Oh yeah, but you-“ 

 

“Oh my god, can we just watch Star Wars or something,” Grantaire groaned, as they started to make their way out in to the downpour. 

 

“Fine, just not the prequels,” Ferre sighed.

 

“Actually you know what guys, this isn’t going to work,” Grantaire stopped walking and turned to Combeferre, “I can’t be with a guy who doesn’t appreciate the prequels.”

 

“Oh trust me, I do, its just that, when I went to Courf’s over the summer he made me watch them five times each,” Combeferre smiled as Grantaire relaxed and leaned into his side a little more.

 

“Fine, then what are we going to watch?” Courf huffed, turning to Enjolras.

 

“Uh-“

 

“Not Mulan, we watched Mulan like yesterday,” Courf put his hand over Enjolras’s mouth. “You fucking licked me! What the fuck!” Enjolras smiled and shrugged as Courf took his hand back.

 

“You put your hand over my mouth,” Enjolras shrugged. 

 

“The fuck, dude?!” Courf wiped his hand down Enjy’s shirt.

 

“This is all well and good, but we’re no closer to figuring out what the hell to watch,” Ferre shouted over the top of Enjolras’s laughter.

 

“I’ve got some Broadway bootlegs burned on to DVDs that we could watch if you guys don’t mind going round to mine?” Grantaire looked at the others, an eyebrow raised. 

 

“Fuck yeah, what’ve you got?” Courf leaned around the others to look at Grantaire properly.

 

“Dude, so many. All the classics, plus I got ‘Next to Normal’, ‘Spring Awakening’, ‘Hamilton’, ‘Dear Evan Hansen’, ‘Newsies-“ 

 

“Gotta be ‘Newsies’,” Courf turned to other two, who were looking at them with resigned bemused expressions. “Guys?”

 

“Fine, ‘Newsies’ it is,” Ferre sighed. 

 

“You’re not angry with me for having bootlegs?” Grantaire looked at Enjolras, expectantly waiting for the outpouring of rage. 

 

“Nah, I think professional recordings of shows are key to the revival and continued existence of the theatre as both an institution and an art form,” Enjolras smiled and shook his head, “until theatre companies realise this, its up to the people to take a stand and make bootlegs so that the shows are more accessible to people who can’t go see them live. I mean, I’ve watched bootlegs of shows and then gone to see them live, doing the first does not negate doing the latter.”

 

“Dude, you could have just left it at ‘nah’ but uh, good yes; thanks for the little political rant.” Grantaire said, he smiled though, this large dopey grin as Enjolras nudged him slightly. 

 

They ended up watching five bootlegs, whilst they gradually entangled themselves, legs became a knot and heads rested on chests; hands combed through hair and without any of them noticing they one by one fell asleep on Grantaire’s tiny single bed. It was only a little bit awkward because of Enjolras’s cast, though they quickly figured out how everyone could fit. The moon rising higher and higher in to the sky, which had cleared after the storm to reveal a carpet of stars. The silvery light shone on them, as Enjolras, who was the last to fall asleep watched his boyfriends; he had never felt so calm and at peace as he did in that moment, he smiled softly to himself, letting the feelings wash over him. He burrowed a little further in to Grantaire’s chest, breathing in his scent, soap, paint, and just a hint of alcohol; Grantaire’s arm came up, in his sleep, his hand resting against Enjolras’s head, bringing him in closer. Enjolras flung one of his arms across Grantaire’s chest and tangled his fingers with Courf’s; he moved his leg to rest against Ferre’s a little more, only satisfied when he had a point of contact with each of them. He felt his eyes get heavier but resisted sleep a few moments more to absorb as much of the peacefulness as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make my day and keep me writing, I hope you enjoyed this!!


	5. A tower of flame rising up from the ground.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is finally freed from his family, also the sea is involved.

As the weeks went on, their youtube channel had gained more than five hundred thousand subscribers; their videos continued to get more than a million views each. They had been invited for interviews by several french news sites, on both the internet and paper. Their new found fame, or rather popularity, had thrown them in to a sort of chaos; they had no idea how to deal with it. Courfeyrac was convinced that they needed a manger, though Combeferre was more cautious about their success, instead he suggested that they go to a convention and meet people who did the same thing they did. Grantaire had laughed and said that most people on youtube had more subscribers than they did and that their channel would probably die out before the year had ended. This had started a fight between Enjolras and Grantaire that had only ended when Courf had chucked a cookie at each of their faces and told them to shut up. 

 

Combeferre had slept between them both that night, clutching Courf to his chest, Enjolras slept at the edge of the bed; he had felt cold all night. Grantaire looked like he hadn’t slept a wink that morning, without Combeferre’s arms around him. They had both apologised pretty much as soon as they’d woken up, though the occasional quip and jibe was still made; they were always made with a smile and a kiss. 

 

The four of them were usually to be found in one of the practise rooms on campus, or in the computer suites editing their latest video. Courfeyrac had watched several editing tutorials and discovered he had a talent for it, Grantaire had spent hours digitally drawing them an end screen and channel icon, Combeferre had worked out their income and how to split the money they earned; Enjolras had found out that he could run their social media accounts with ease. It went on this way for a while before Enjolras hobbled into their daily practise session late with a harried look on his face. 

 

“We got an email from a talk show today,” He said, a frown on his face, as he looked at the others. 

 

“Oh? Which one?” Combeferre looked up at him from the bar. 

 

“The Ellen Show,” Enjolras walked over to Ferre to show him his phone. “They’ll pay for our flights, room and board as well.”

 

“Wait fucking what now?” Courfeyrac asked, finishing stretching as fast as he could, Grantaire just sat on the floor and started laughing. 

 

“This is amazing-“

 

“Yeah, it’s great, there’s only one teeny tiny problem,” Grantaire scoffed. 

 

“What’s that?” Courf whipped his head around to face Grantaire.

 

“We barely speak English, Enjolras least of all,” Grantaire laughed a little, “The Ellen Show is filmed in English…”

 

“We have to say no,” Combeferre said, understanding Grantaire, “They’ll humiliate us. It’s better to say yes one of the interviews we were offered by the French shows.”

 

“Exactly, much safer, much easier and there’s no ten hour flight.” Grantaire shrugged and smiled a little. 

 

“No.” Enjolras growled.

 

“What?” Combeferre turned to look at him; Enjolras had that kind of frown on his face that said that he was not going to be swayed on whatever decision came out of his mouth. 

 

“I said, no. We’re going to go on that show, R, you talk the best English out of all of us; you can translate. They say there’ll be a short chat and then we perform, then it’s done and we’ve got more influence, more followers than ever before.” Enjolras grinned. 

 

“This is all some big scheme just to make our twitter account into a political statement isn't it?” Grantaire groaned.

 

“…No…” Enjolras glanced between the other three. “Of course not.” 

 

“Enjolras.” Combeferre raised an eyebrow. 

 

“I- I- I just think that we should use our power for good, you know, to spread awareness about certain issues. I think that if we’re going to have this size of following what’s the harm in trying to make them aware about the problems people face in today’s society.” 

 

“Julien. _No._ ” Grantaire sighed, banging his head against the bar. 

 

“Why not?” Enjolras frowned at Grantaire, looking genuinely confused, “I don’t see what’s wrong with trying to educate people as well as entertain them.” 

 

“Because education does not equal entertainment, sure discourse might be fun for you but it sure as hell isn’t fun for other people. Though I don’t see what’s wrong with having it on the general twitter account every now and then, though make sure it isn’t overwhelming people and such.” Combeferre, ever the most practical said, “now, don’t we have a video to practise for.” 

 

“But… The Ellen Show,” Courfeyrac turned to Combeferre and made puppy eyes at him.

 

“It’s not me you have to convince,” Combeferre shrugged.

 

“‘Taire… Ranae…R…” Courf said, sidling slowly up to R batting his eyelashes. “Please.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Grantaire muttered, unable to look away from Courf’s eyes as they lit up.

 

“We’re going to LA!!” Courf jumped up and down and clapped his hands, “I hope I meet some famous people.”  
  
“Can’t say no, now, can you?” Enjolras nudged Grantaire with his shoulder, grinning slightly. 

 

“Ugh, I suppose not,” Grantaire said, resigned to his hot, sticky fate. 

 

“Rehearse now, pack for LA later,” Combeferre sighed, pushing Enjolras gently to the piano.

 

The sun was setting outside the windows, purple streaks cast through the window, breaking through the branches of the trees creating black and coloured patterns on the walls. The sprung wood floor creaked slightly as the three dancers landed on it, Courfeyrac flying through the air as though he was made to not feel gravity’s affect. Enjolras was always knocked down by Grantaire’s strength and grace, and this song showed both of them off to their full advantage; from his place on the piano, Enjolras was afforded a view of the whole room. They had finally decided to use more of the space, spreading out more, exploring the space the room offered to them. 

 

Enjolras had an idea, it had been bubbling somewhere in the back of his mind. They were doing this dance to a sort of sea shanty, a title theme to a show that Courfeyrac was addicted to. The show had pirates in it and Enjolras thought it would be cool to do it on a beach, he thought it was time to start using some of the money their channel had given them. They had promised they would do something big when they hit 500k, performing on one of Normandy’s grey beaches as the sun set in fiery red streaks behind them was certainly something different to their uni’s high ceilings and romantic architecture. Whilst they were at it, he decided, he would set the piano his grandfather had given him (before he was disowned and thrown out on the street) on fire. 

 

“I have an idea,” he said, as he stopped playing, resting his hands gently on the keys, “this is about pirates right, about the fact that most of the pirate community were gay or at least found love in other men whilst they were at sea?” 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Courf nodded as Combeferre lowered him down from a particularly high lift. “I don’t like that look on your face, Julien, that look means you’re planning something.” 

 

“Well. I was thinking that I haven’t been to the Normandy house in a while, and that my parents are currently in New York so they won’t be there either.” Enjolras grinned, the corners of his mouth lifting up in a conspiratorial kind of smirk. 

 

“Do you still have keys to the Normandy house?” Combeferre asked looking at Enjolras whilst running a hand through his hair. 

 

“…Maybe I stole them from my father before I left home… Maybe he doesn't know I have them… Maybe.” Enjolras looked down at the piano, “also I was thinking about setting the piano on fire.” The last sentence was rushed, the words coming out in a jumble. 

 

“You were what?” Grantaire lifted up his shirt to look at Enjolras with a horrified expression. 

 

“I listened to the theme today, its the kind of song that involves burning stuff to,” Enjolras shrugged, “I wont play that piano, it’s just sitting in my room doing nothing, I don’t want to sell it either; I’d much prefer we burned it.” 

 

“Enj-“

 

“No, it’s the last thing I have to do to rid myself of my family forever. Once this is over I never have to think about them again.” Enjolras had that look on his face again, his brows furrowed, his chin jutted out; his face was set like marble Grantaire knew he was not going to be swayed this time. A lock of blond hair fell in front of his eyes, the curl tumbling down over his face, the light from the dying sun caught it illuminating the colour of it still more; Grantaire heaved out a breath and nodded. 

 

“Classes break for reading week tomorrow, we should head up then; Courf are you okay to drive?” Combeferre tore his gaze away from Grantaire and Enjolras, trying to ignore the tension and heat that had driven through him as the two had gazed at each other. 

 

“The hell if I’m getting in his car again, it’s older than me,” Grantaire shook his head, “not to mention the last time I got in it, he drove in to the airport.” 

 

“Technically I drove into the airport car park, not the airport itself, and that’s only because your music distracted me. Also do not insult Geoff, he tries his best,” Courfeyrac folded his arms as he moved toward Grantaire, he didn't stop till he was toe to toe with the other man. Grantaire winked once, quickly before he bent down and kissed Courf on the nose. 

 

“You believe that.” Grantaire laughed, ruffling Courf’s hair. 

 

“Guys please, both Courf’s car and driving are fine; we’ve no other way to get there really, unless you _want_ to be stuck on a train for hours.” Combeferre said rolling his eyes. 

 

“Thank you, Theodore,” Courf sniffed trying to put his unruly mop of hair back in order. 

 

“Have we sorted out costumes yet?” Enjolras asked, at the mention of costumes R’s face lit up.

 

“Oh yes, yes we have,” Grantaire walked over to where his duffle bag was sitting, he pulled out shirts, breeches, and waistcoats. 

 

“Oh no,” Enjolras groaned, a sort of pained laugh escaping his lips as Grantaire threw a pair of black breeches, a shirt, and a scarlet waistcoat at him. 

 

“Oh yes,” Courfeyrac laughed, before pulling on his own pair of white breeches, bright blue waistcoat, and grey shirt.

 

“I did try to talk them out of it,” Combeferre grimaced, though his ensemble was all black apart from a navy blue brocaded waistcoat. “But Courf insisted that if we were going to perform to a song about pirates that we look the part as well.”

 

Grantaire was fiddling with his own outfit, his shirt and breeches were the opposite to Enjolras’s; his breeches were stark white and his shirt was black. His waistcoat was a deep green, which when it caught the light flashed with gold streaks. Once they were all changed, Enjolras looked about them, they really did look like men from the golden age of piracy, as though they had just stepped on to the port at Nassau. He smiled a little enjoying the way he looked in the clothes, and thinking about just how much he’d changed in the past two years. 

 

This dreamy look of contemplation that spread itself across Enjolras’s features was not lost on Grantaire. Enjolras’s pale blue eyes had glazed over, a smiled curled its way on to his lips, as he stood there long fingers tangling themselves in to the gold brocade on his waistcoat. Grantaire had been up all night trying to figure out what colour to make Enjolras’s waistcoat, thinking about the man who had become first his enemy, then his friend, then one of the people who meant the most to him in the whole world. Making Courf’s and Ferre’s waistcoats had been easy, they had hardly needed any thought, each of them representing different parts of the sea. Grantaire watched as Enjolras reached up and tied his hair in a ponytail, he hardly did that, instead he usually let it run loose and wild, falling all over the place. In his mind’s eye Grantaire could really see Enjolras as a fearsome pirate captain, he supposed, in another life perhaps they’d sailed the seas together. Even in the cast, Enjolras looked every bit the pirate, every bit the man Grantaire knew he was. 

 

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I think we should bring breeches back in fashion. My arse has literally never looked better,” Courf said, turning around and looking at it in the mirror.

 

***

 

The drive down to Normandy was long and grey, winter had fully settled over them casting her dark blanket of cloud through the French countryside. Enjolras sighed and looked out the window, his head resting against the cool glass, his eyes following the horizon as they drove down the highway. They had left early in the morning in order to miss the daily rush of commuters coming both in and out of Paris. The sun had made a valiant effort to break through the dense, oppressive cloud cover, but it had been beaten back and now no rays of gold broke through. There was nothing to alleviate the heavy grey atmosphere that pervaded the country. 

 

They would reach Normandy by lunch time, spend an hour or so unpacking the car, and making their way down to the beach. Then they’d rehearse for a few more hours, then perform and film whilst the sun set. Enjolras knew from all the winter half terms he’d spent by the beach that the sun sets were blood red and streaked with colour. He knew that they could make something incredible out of their setting. They’d stay there for two evenings, the first was the one where they’d film the dance with Enjolras playing the piano; the second would be the one where they would film the dance with Enjolras on his violin and the piano burning. 

 

The beach was reached by a path that lead down the cliff face, it could only be reached through the gardens of his family’s home. It was grey, and sandy with rocks the jutted out into the sea from either side of the tiny cove. It was perfect, and he had it on good authority that it had once been used by illegal rum runners in the eighteenth century. He knew the path was wide enough to fit Courf’s car, with the piano inside it, because he’d once driven down there in his Grandfather’s land rover. 

The wind whipped around them, the sun shone through the clouds weakly, the sea beating out a consistent beat against the shore. They stood on the beach, soaking in the smell of the sea, the breeze dancing with them as the other three warmed up, Enjolras set up the piano; he detuned it enough to sound like the piano used in the theme song. Courf set up the lights and cameras they were using, Ferre set about setting various piles of driftwood on fire and Grantaire fussed about them trying to do their hair as they set about their tasks. 

 

“Fuck it’s cold,” Courf said shivering as he changed out of his dance leggings and jumper and into his costume. 

 

“It is winter Gabriel,” Grantaire laughed, even as he moved closer into one of the fires Combeferre had set up. 

 

“We should get on with this, the sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go up to the house,” Enjolras said, sitting down at the piano and beginning to play. 

 

***

 

The next sunset, they stood on the beach, Grantaire had a bottle of gasoline in his hand; Enjolras held a lit match. He stood next to the doused piano, his teeth gritted, Grantaire could see the hard line of his jaw and the way his eyebrows were knitted together. He was an immovable object, a ship set on its course, a rock that could not be moved even by the force of the sea. Grantaire knew there was no way he could persuade his lover to change his mind about burning the piano his grandfather had given him.

 

“This way,” Enjolras said as the sea wind lashed about him, “this way I win.” He dropped the match and the piano erupted in a tower of flames writhing and rising from the ground. 

 

They watched for a second before Enjolras grabbed his violin and started playing; Courfeyrac pressed record on his camera and Grantaire and Combeferre began their couple’s dance. The story they told this time was different to the one they had told yesterday. Then it had been about love and the sea this time Ferre and Grantaire danced for grief and pain. A tossing and turning dance full of torment and tortured heartbreak, it ended with Grantaire on his knees in the water with Combeferre beside him a hand on his shoulder; Enjolras lingering behind, disguised by the light of the fire that burned inside the piano. Courfeyrac stopped filming, the red light on the front of the camera shutting off as Enjolras played the last lingering note on his violin. The sun cast streaks of fire in the sky, orange cutting through the grey clouds just as the orange flame cut through the grey sand on the beach. The sea was an ever present monster, broiling with foam and salt, it turned Grantaire’s pale brown skin pink as he knelt there, with tears rolling down his face. 

 

“I’m free,” Enjolras whispered at the piano continued to smoulder, the ashes of paint flaking off and trailing into the wind. “That was the last thing. The last thing that tied me to my family.” The set of his very shoulders had changed from burdened and tense to light and free. He tipped back his head, untied his hair and laughed into the burgeoning breeze. 

 

“Now to LA, then,” Combeferre smiled, helping Grantaire up and walking on to the sand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, sorry the chapter is so late! Kudos and comments are highly appreciated, don't forget to hit me up on tumblr: www.obi-wan-kxnxbi.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

this will be on hiatus till further notice sorry :(

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I'm hoping the next chapter will be up in the next two weeks!! I hope you liked it, comments and kudos keep me writing and make my day!! <3 
> 
> yell at me on tumblr: obi-wan-kxnxbi.tumblr.com


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